day's march into the forests. It was a hot fine day in October following a week of rain, and the abundance of the varied insect-life of a tropical forest was marvellous to behold, and seemed to strike De Niceville, who had for months been confined to the drudgery of an office in Calcutta, with a delight quite inexpressible in words. How we rushed about that day, with net, bottle, and collecting-box in constant use, until far on in the afternoon, tired, dripping with perspiration, but still longing to continue collecting, we sat down on the bank of a little mountain stream to count our spoil. Even then De Niceville's thought was for others. Looking at the clouds of butterflies swarming on the sands at our feet, and flitting around us, he remarked:—"What wouldn't I give to have [mentioning a mutual friend of ours at home—the very Nestor among lepidopterists] out here; he would enjoy it so."
To so ardent a naturalist it was a labour of love to amass a vast collection, and to tend it with unremitting care. I am glad to learn that this valuable result of De Niceville's work has been acquired by the Indian Museum, where so much of his best work was done.
